


The Final Supper

by EvilMuffins



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cannibalism, Eventual Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Curses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 19:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: With a nod, Yusuke seated himself across from Akira. Despite the familiarity of sharing a table with the prince, Yusuke knew that tonight's meal would be far different from any that had come before.Yusuke would not be the one eating on this occasion.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42
Collections: Shipoween 2019 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	The Final Supper

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is _just a touch_ late for Halloween, but I adored your likes list from the beginning of the exchange and only found time to treat you just now! Consider it a holiday gift at this point :) Hope you enjoy!

_The ritual is an honor_ , Yusuke reminded himself for yet another time that day as he turned the brush over in his hand. He tried to imagine what it might feel like to never hold his favorite brush, or to sharpen a lovingly worn pencil, or to go to bed without his hand covered finger-to-wrist in paint ever again. Despite the lack of food inside, his stomach still churned at the notion.

Yusuke tucked the brush back into its case, not bothering to wash it first, as it hadn't made contact with a single drop of paint the entire evening. His art supplies were the final possessions inside of his modest room that he had yet to pack, and with his brush, canvas and palette stowed away in his truck, there was little sign that Yusuke Kitagawa had ever shared a dwelling with Ichiryusai Madarame. All of the paintings that Yusuke had ever created at his master's behest were immediately sold to wealthy lords, gone from the tiny shack as quickly as if Yusuke had merely dreamed the blisters on his fingers, or the stabbing pain in his shoulders from hours on end of work without rest.

Although attempting to sleep seemed a foolhardy endeavor, Yusuke crawled into bed. In the morning, he would be sent off for the palace. Even if he had been denied any dinner beyond a hunk of stale bread once again, he should at the very least give his body what little rest he could in preparation.

* * *

Yusuke wasn't sure what he had been expecting in regards to the prince. Certainly, the late members of royalty that he seen depicted in works of art had been handsome, but Yusuke had always assumed that at least a portion of their appearance could be attributed to the artists' own touch. As hard as an artist might try to wholly replicate their subject on the canvas, something of their own personality would always shine through in the piece.

Foolish, perhaps, but Yusuke found himself hoping for a chance to at least sketch the prince before the impending loss of his painting arm came to pass. Instead, Yusuke's fingers twitched at his side, before coming to rest at the ring of keys he had fascinated there after stowing the few remaining mementos had if his mother in a separate trunk, burying it deep within the forest the day before his journey.

“Sleep well?” the prince asked, taking a casual sip from his piping mug. The aroma of coffee wafted through the palace corridors each morning, and Yusuke had come to enjoy their daily ritual of sharing a cup out on the prince's private balcony.

If the ruler's beauty had come as a surprise to Yusuke, certainly the man's amiable nature had as well.

“Very well, Your Highness.” In the week since the carriage had come for him, Yusuke had become embarrassingly accustomed to the luxuries to be found within his guest room, goose-down bedding and daily meals included. “The room you have afforded me, it's much more than I deserve, I assure you.”

They hadn't even performed the ritual yet; his price for such kindness still languished unpaid. If Yusuke didn't know better, he might think that the prince was putting it off.

“I'd really like it if you just called me Akira,” the prince chuckled, removing his glasses to wipe the steam off them using the cloth napkin that had been rolled up beside his cup and saucer. “I think I've told you that at least once every morning now.”

“Yes, of course...”

Yusuke wasn't accustomed to living in an environment in which nothing was expected of him, even if the notion that it must all come to an end soon lingered in his mind like a spot of coffee soiling the fine linen tablecloth.

“You know, I keep meaning to ask- Wouldn't you like something to eat with that?” Akira suggested, brow creasing slightly in sudden concern. “Just because I'm not having anything that doesn't mean that you have to.”

“That would be quite agreeable, actually. Thank you.” Although Yusuke was fairly certain that the polite thing to do would have been to refuse until Akira insisted, he let emptiness in his stomach speak for him.

Without further discussion, Akira turned in his seat, shouting back toward the open balcony double doors. “Becky!”

“Yes, Your Highness?” A maid stepped out into the sunny dining area, pig-tails bouncing as she curtsied.

“Yusuke would like something to go with his coffee, if you don't mind.”

“Alright, but don't think that I'm doing your laundry later too...”

Becky soon returned with a tray full of toast and jam, setting it before Yusuke. As she waved her hand over the meal, the butter knife began to float, spreading the jam all of its own accord. Once satisfied in her work, Becky took her leave.

The moment the tray clicked down against the table, Yusuke reached for a triangle of toast, glossy with red jam slathered from crust to crust. Strawberry, he realized after taking a bite. All the while Yusuke chewed, Akira watched him intently, cheek resting on his fist.

“How much do you know about the ritual?”

* * *

It was the first time that Yusuke had seen inside of the palace's dining hall. All of his previous meals had either been brought directly to his room, or served out on the balcony with Akira. And although the table was long enough to seat no less than fifty, Yusuke and Akira were the sole occupants of the room.

“You can sit,” Akira said, noticing as Yusuke awkwardly hovered near the head of the table.

With a nod, Yusuke seated himself across from Akira. Despite the familiarity of sharing a table with the prince, Yusuke knew that tonight's meal would be far different from any that had come before.

Yusuke would not be the one eating on this occasion.

“Are you ready?” Akira asked casually.

Yusuke wondered what might happen if he were to refuse. Would he simply be sent home, a replacement to be found in his stead? He didn't wish for this to happen to anyone else, great honor or no.

“I am.”

Akira smiled, although Yusuke thought that he caught a hint of sadness hiding behind his glasses.

“Takemi!” Akira called, and a woman dressed in a white lab coat emerged through the ornate double doors, tall heels clicking against the tile as she approached.

“Hold out your arm,” she commanded. “Whichever one you use for your Craft.”

Obediently, Yusuke laid his right arm out flat on the table, wondering in the far reaches of his mind whether the tablecloth was changed after each time the ritual was performed. It was certainly clean enough for all the blood that must have been spilled over the past few years since the prince had mysteriously come into power.

“Roll up your sleeve.”

Again, Yusuke complied.

Takemi held her hand just above the flesh of Yusuke's forearm, and he could feel the warmth of magic radiating off of it. “This will make it so you don't feel anything,” she explained solemnly.

Yusuke glanced across the table. If Akira were about to call the whole thing off as a mistake or a joke he showed no sign of it, sitting still as the expression on his face. For as much of a grand ritual as Yusuke had heard whispers about in town, there was in truth little ceremony to it.

Takemi exited the room without another word, leaving the prince alone at the table with the man whose flesh would soon fill his stomach.

“Let's get started, then.” Akira stood, rounding the table to stand beside Yusuke. “Give me your arm.”

The prince knelt beside Yusuke then, taking his hand numb hand as if to place a kiss upon the back of it, just as he had during their first meeting. Instead of doing anything so pleasant, Akira's mouth opened wide, exposing an alarming set of fangs.

“You're...” Yusuke breathed, voice hushed as awe supplanted fear. He had heard the rumors, of course, but he had merely thought them to be fairy stories told to keep children away from the palace.

Akira laughed mirthlessly, raising his head, although not letting go of Yusuke's arm. “A Phantom? I mean, yeah, of course. Did you expect a human to do something like this?”

In truth, Yusuke had.

Akira seemed to sense this, snorting softly in frustration. “No, you're right. People are capable of horrible things. As a ruler, I was hoping that I could change that...”

“How did this come about?” Yusuke questioned, suddenly emboldened by Akira's moment of vulnerability. “If you're about to take the arm I make my living by, at least indulge me in the tale of how a Phantom would become the ruler of a such a mundane kingdom as Le Blanc.”

Akira sighed, straightening up and instead settling himself upon the neighboring chair. “I was exiled here. The king of Metaverse, he...” He grimaced at the memory. “I stumbled in on him and some woman. He was going to... I had to save her, you know? Anyone would have done the same.”

“I'm certain you did what you needed to.” Yusuke placed a reassuring hand on Akira's arm, despite being the one about to have a portion of his body devoured.

Without warning, Akira grasped hold of Yusuke's arm again, pulling him in so that he nearly toppled from the chair. “I'll do what I need to again.”

He grinned wickedly before plunging his teeth into Yusuke's forearm.

Instinctively, Yusuke's arm jerked in Akira's hold, although the doctor had been right- there was no hint of pain. Nothing but the impending loss of his very reason for living, each drip of his blood onto the marble floor counting down the moment in which he would no longer be able to create again.

“I'd rather give anything else,” he admitted quietly to the ceiling, unable to look any longer as another crimson hunk of flesh was torn from bone and sinew only to glide down Akira's throat. “My soul, even... Nothing short of my heart.”

Yusuke's arm fell uselessly to his side, blood streaming down to his fingertips like ribbons cast off a present. Fangs loosened their bite as Akira looked up at Yusuke with eyes as wide as the streak of blood staining his chin.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

Still holding onto Yusuke's arm, Akira stood swiftly from his seat, knocking the chair backward onto the floor with a clatter that rang out throughout the empty dining hall. In one fluid motion, Yusuke found himself hoisted onto his feet as Akira's other hand dove straight into his chest.

 _It would make for a striking painting..._ Was all that Yusuke's mind could manage to think as a cold wave washed over him. The sight before his eyes was far too surreal for his mind, muddled by blood loss, to immediately comprehend.

The prince, glasses spattered with blood, held Yusuke's very heart within his hand.

And still Yusuke's nerves felt nothing, even as tissue and viscera still connected the still beating organ to his gaping chest cavity.

As gently as the time Akira had kissed the back of Yusuke's hand upon their first meeting, Akira took a bite of Yusuke's heart.

The savoring...or was it gratitude...?...in Akira's eyes was the last thing Yusuke saw.

* * *

Yusuke rolled over, burying his face into the plush of the down covers. Even in his sleep-addled state, Yusuke was certain in two very separate facts:

One: That he was most definitely not asleep in Madarame's shack.

Two: Yusuke Kitagawa was very much still alive.

“I'm sorry...”

Eyes fluttering open, Yusuke turned to see Akira sitting in a chair by his bedside.

“What for?” Yusuke went to rub at his eyes, only to realize that Akira held his hand in a gentle touch so unlike that of his nightmare. “I admit to having something of a horrific dream, however that was not your fault...”

Akira shook his head, as if he could jostle out the guilt he felt through the motion. “Do you remember the story I told you about my having been banished from Metaverse?”

“Of course.”

Yusuke could feel a sudden squeeze from Akira's hand beneath the sheets.

“The king of Metaverse... _Shido..._ when he sent me into exile, at the same time he cursed me. Once every few months, I...” Akira's eyes fell to the floor, the disgust in his own actions practically searing a hole in the carpet.

“I see.” Yusuke wasn't about to make him speak it aloud, not after having witnessed the horror of Akira's affliction first hand. And now, he could see the regret in Akira's eyes.

“I don't think that you do...” Akira drew his gaze upward, locking with Yusuke's once more. “Yusuke, you broke my curse.”

Yusuke's eyes grew wide. “What do you mean?”

“You offered me your heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Akira gave Yusuke a home at the palace afterward.


End file.
